


La Fashionista

by Luci0logy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Explicit Language, Ficlet, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-29
Updated: 2006-06-29
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luci0logy/pseuds/Luci0logy
Summary: Harry and Draco discover they have a mutual interest, but will they ever get to enjoy it?





	La Fashionista

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: This fic is respectfully dedicated to Geoviki's dedicated follower of fashion - Draco Malfoy.  


* * *

When Harry suggested that he and Draco explore other ways of finding mutual enjoyment, he had expected it to be a pleasurable experience. And it had been… initially.

“Are you ready yet, Draco? I want to see what you’ve thought of.”

“Patience, Harry. I’m just putting the final thing down, then we can compare notes.” 

Draco sat down beside Harry on the sofa and skimmed through the lists they had both written. “My, my, you are a dark horse, Harry,” he purred, pointing to the list. “I didn’t know you liked this.” 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Harry retorted as he blushed furiously. 

“I never said it was. It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all.” Draco leaned over and kissed Harry on his flushed cheek. “Never fear, Harry your secret is safe with me because I like it too.”

“You do?” Harry sounded both surprised and relieved at the same time.

“Yes, I do and I think we should indulge in this particular pleasure very soon, although it will need careful preparation.”

“Preparation?” queried Harry, “what sort of preparation?”  

Draco grinned. “Let me explain…”

* * * * * * *

Project ‘Educating Harry’, as Draco liked to call it, had started well that morning. Harry could barely contain his excitement. The prospect of Draco’s hands all over him for several hours had been positively arousing, until Draco had completely taken charge, requiring Harry to submit totally to him in his _area of expertise_ as he’d so eloquently put it. 

By the time Harry emerged from the en-suite bathroom later that evening, decidedly un-refreshed, he was exhausted from the hours of torment Draco had subjected him to. His whole body ached from the positions he had been put in so that Draco could view him from every angle, before making his choices. 

“No form of entertainment is worth this torture,” Harry mumbled to himself, as he studied the scene before him that Draco had prepared earlier. He turned, as the door opened behind him, to see Draco’s hopeful expression fade.

“Bloody Hell, why aren’t you ready yet?” Draco demanded, as he entered the bedroom and strode over to Harry. “We’ll be late if you don’t get a move on.”

“I don’t know which one to pick, you bought so many,” Harry protested as he stood surveying the colour co-ordinated outfits, carefully laid out on their bed.

“That’s because you looked so hot in all of them. Come on Harry, do you _really_ need me to choose one for you?” 

“No, I think you’ve made enough decisions for one day,” Harry said, “ordering me and all those assistants around in every shop we went in, like some sort of military commander. You should’ve heard yourself.” 

“Knowing how to dress is my forte, Harry. I know exactly what I want and…” he smirked, "I make sure I get it." Draco opened his arms wide, and turned slowly so Harry could fully appreciate the vision of beauty before him. His eyes took in the Dior Homme black patent leather zipped ankle boots, Draco's lithe body clothed in Paul Smith velvet slim-fit flat fronted trousers and patch pocket jacket in midnight-blue which complimented the skinny pale grey roll neck top, before coming to rest on Draco's immaculate shoulder-length blond hair. Harry's reverie was cut short by Draco's irritated voice. "Now for fuck's sake, hurry up and pick an outfit, any outfit in this room will suffice. The Royal Ballet waits for no-one, not even an Adonis like you.”

Harry pulled a face and stuck his tongue out as Draco began to walk away. “Any outfit?” he called after Draco.

“Any outfit.” 

 “What time are we meeting everyone?” Harry queried, but the reply was muffled through the closing door. “Right,” he grinned to himself, “any outfit it is then.”  

Further down the hall in the large elegant sitting room, Draco balanced a tray and allowed his guests to take a drink. He looked at the clock on top of the mantlepiece and shook his head with a small grin. He set his now-empty tray down and cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank you all for coming here first to celebrate Harry's amazing transformation, but if he doesn't make an appearance soon I'm afraid we won't have time to gaze in awe and wonder.”

“Do you want me to go and chivvy him along?” asked Hermione.

“No, wait here or you’ll miss his grand entrance and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”  

Hermione’s eyes widened as Draco spoke. “Oh, I am surprised Draco, I’m very surprised,” she nodded, looking over his shoulder. “So is he!” Draco turned to see a crimson faced Harry frozen in the doorway.

A sudden hush descended as the sound of a crystal champagne flute shattering on the parquet floor echoed around the room. Nobody moved or spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Draco broke the silence. “What the fuck Harry…” he spluttered, “What kind of outfit is that?”

Harry mustered what was left of his dignity and proclaimed, “Isn’t it obvious? It’s my birthday suit.”

 


End file.
